


How To Wish Upon A Star

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Affection, Community: comment_fic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt Dean Winchester, Kid Fic, Little Brothers, M/M, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7300126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the comment_fic prompt; Any, Any, The worst is over now and we can breathe again/I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away/There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight/I wanna hold you high and steal your pain</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Wish Upon A Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



Hunting is dangerous, injuries come with the gig. However, Sam cannot recall a time when it ever got bad enough that life hung by a thin thread. Sam is barely ten years of age the first time Dean returns from a hunt truly torn up. John said it was a simple job, a milk run. He was very wrong. Dean is harmed, seriously. Bleeding and cut up, patches of purple and dark shades decorating his sun golden skin. Three ribs are bruised and hurting, and there is one long, grisly gash cutting across his chest, tearing his shirt to strip shreds.

Two of Dean’s fingers are disengaged and his right ankle is sprained. He spits blood, his bottom lip cut and bleeding. He wobbles like a newborn colt as Dad leads him into the room, John bolsters the vast majority of Dean's weight against his side to keep him upright. Dean’s breathing hard between his clenched teeth and his eyes are glassy and wet, like he has been crying, or fighting back tears to appear brave in front of his father. 

Sam lingers by the doorway, big brown doe eyes wide and worried, his fingers fidgeting around the hem of his black hand-me-down AC/DC shirt that hangs huge on his skinny frame. The shirt belonged to Dean until he hit his growth spurt and out grew it. 

Three bloody rags douse the table as John patches up Dean, the fabric trickling red against the lively cherry wood. Sam startles when Dean lets out a yowling whimper of torment, heaving between gripped teeth. Dean has never fussed, not ever, and has never whimpered. He generally put on a bold face, even when he is harmed, he smiles and bears it, cocky big brother as ever.

Sam believes they should go to the hospital, but John seems to working some kind of magic with his medical training; stiches are weaved, wounds are patched up with alcohol and gauze. A few pills and some whiskey slightly shush Dean’s broken whimpers. 

Sam wants to argue with his father, Dean is injured greatly and needs professional help, yet it seemed like with John’s skill, Dean is cured, as much as possible, that is. 

Sam moves a little closer when Dad starts in on the ribs, wrapping them with an ace bandage before lightly pressing a homemade ice pack against them. By now, Dean seems a little bit out of it. His head lolls, he is not whimpering any more, and his eyelids are heavy and dropping. 

Sam glances at John, questioning and worried. Dad smiles, a little sad but comforting, brushing a hand gently through Sam’s hair. “He will be alright, Sammy. I promise. He just got really bang up. Help me get him into bed, he needs to rest.” 

Sam takes Dean’s hand, careful of the two once broken fingers that have been reset by John and held together with a homemade splint. Together, they get Dean settled into bed, and Sam doesn’t care if he is too old to sleep next to Dean; he crawls in bed beside his older brother, laying his head next to Dean’s on the big, fluffy pillow. 

John doesn't scold Sam nor advise him that they are much too old to share a bed. Rather, he tenderly tucks the sheets over both his young men and kisses their temples, before leaving on a supplies run. Dean will require more pharmaceutical and a change of gauzes, and some solace nourishment like chicken noodle soup for when he wake. There is a store up the street therefore he won't be gone lone, he does not wish to be far from his children for a really long time. 

Dean slips off into a simple rest on account of the medication, yet Sam stays awake, his fingers twisted around the amulet on his sibling’s neck. He doesn’t realizes there are tears in his eyes until he whispers “Please, don’t ever leave me, Dean. I...I love you.” His voice is soft and small, like his words are meant to be a secret. 

Only they are not. It is not a secret he loves his brother. It is not a secret his heart breaks with the thought of his brother dying, and as Dean sleeps, Sam sniffles softly, begging his sibling, “Don’t go where I can’t follow.” 

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for this prompt!](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/730123.html?thread=96400139#/t96400139)


End file.
